1013
by Scatterheart
Summary: Obi/Ami. COMPLETED!! On the 1013th day after Anakin turned to the dark side... My take on how Padme Amidala died.
1. Default Chapter

Note: I never believed it would happen, but here it is. A new fanfic from me! And the most amazing thing is, it's actually finished. Like, whoa.

Summary: PG. Obi/Ami. Romance, Angst, Angst, Angst! My take on how Padmé Amidala died.

Disclaimer: I own nothing; George owns all and then some.

**1013**

By Scatterheart a.k.a. 2shy

_One_

On the one thousand and thirteenth morning after his battle with Anakin Skywalker, Obi Wan Kenobi stood outside of the small dirt hovel and shielded his eyes from a sandy breeze as he watched the figure make its way to him through the rolling hills of sand.

It was Padmé Amidala. She was walking, carrying a large wicker basket in the crook of her arm, and limping under the weight of it. The frayed hem of her simple white robe traced a lopsided line in the sand as she neared him.

Obi Wan sighed. He stretched out with the Force and levitated away the weight of the basket.

Padmé stopped in her tracks. She jiggled the basket effortlessly. She lifted the cloth cover and peered into it, and Obi Wan smiled to himself. He imagined her frowning as she saw that the cakes, pastries, fruits, and jars of fresh water she had bought for him were all lying snugly in their places.

When she frowned like that she looked fifteen again. Her frown was always more of a childish pout than a genuinely angry expression, and whenever she fixed him with her little stare of disapproval, he would think back to the days when she had sat upon the throne of Naboo, a girl Queen hiding behind a mask of white face paint and makeup. Back then she always did more than what was expected of her.

It was the same story now.

Lifting her head accusingly, the former Queen glared at Obi Wan across the expanse of desert. She marched toward him menacingly and swiftly. When she covered the distance between them at last, she shoved the basket into his arms and stood back with her fists on her waist.

"Why did you have to do that, Obi Wan?"

"I was_ helping you, Your Highness," he responded good-naturedly. "You sound as if--"_

"And why must you insist on calling me Your Highness?" she sighed.

"You are a queen."

"I _was a queen. A long, long time ago."_

"Nevertheless you are still a queen to me. A very domineering one." He grinned and Padmé scowled.  Then he turned serious. "Queen or not, why did you _walk_ here, Padmé? You know it's dangerous with the Tuskens nearby."

"What do you expect me to do, brilliant Jedi Master? My speeder is in Mos Eisley for repairs."

"You do not have to come every week, you know."

Padmé fixed him with another lengthy pout, and brushed past him. She walked to the entrance of his hovel and stood in the doorway. "Tell me how you are going to eat if I do not come," she said, looking back at him.

He walked to her. "The same way you do. I grow some food in my garden and I go to Mos Eisley on occasion."

They entered the tiny room, and Obi Wan placed the basket on a low wooden table. Padmé reached inside and took out a small yellow butter roll. It smelled distinctly warm and creamy; she had undoubtedly baked it herself. "Can you make this?" she demanded.

"No, but I won't miss it if it's gone," he lied.

"Ha! You'll starve without this!" She triumphantly dropped the roll back into the basket.

Obi Wan pulled up a ragged chair, a remnant of some forgotten diplomatic office, and offered it to her. "Padmé, I don't want to cause you any trouble because of me," he said quietly. "You know I'm not just talking about the Tuskens. If your neighbors discover who you are and who you're visiting--"

"You can rest assured the Empire won't look for you here. Ana -- Darth Vader does not expect you to take refuge in his home world. He knows what kind of place this is. He thinks a great Jedi Knight like yourself will not choose to live in this kind of wasteland." She sunk into the chair and continued with a dulled, timeworn bitterness, "He always told me that the Jedi order deserved to live in luxury. After all, they were the protectors of what was good and just." She scoffed.

"I know what Vader thinks and I'm not worried about myself. I'm worried about _you."_

"Me? What is there to worry about? Queen Amidala is no more. Senator Amidala is believed to be dead. And I am simply a moisture farmer living in a community of moisture farmers."

"You can never be certain about that, Padmé! Ask yourself _what if_."

"There is always a what if and they'll always be a what if. Now sit down and eat something. You're growing thin." She patted the basket.

"I don't need you to mother me," Obi Wan said. The words rolled off his tongue a heartbeat too soon; he clamped his mouth shut and peered at Padmé hesitantly. The waves of stinging pain and old grief rippled off of her like a tidal wave through the Force. "Forgive me," he whispered.

"It's all right."

"I didn't mean to say -- that."

"I know. You always talk before you think." She smiled tiredly. "But I _was a horrible mother--"_

"No, Padmé!"

She stilled him with her luminous brown eyes. "It's true. You know my children are much better off without me."

"Don't say that." He sank to his knees in front of her, the pebbles of the floor denting into his legs. He heard the former Queen gasp, and felt her shock.

"What are you doing--?"

He moved to her and rested his head in her lap. "Take back what you said."

"Obi Wan..." Her cool, delicate fingers laced themselves into his hair.

"Take back what you said!"

She exhaled heavily. "All right, I take it back. Are you happy now, Jedi Master?"

He slowly lifted his head and drank in the sight of her, the way the sunlight ignited her auburn tresses. She was regarding him with a sad, lingering look he had come to know so well. "Are we ever happy, Padmé?" he said.

She was silent for a moment, stroking the side of his face. And then she visibly shook herself and made a sound of disapproval in her throat. "Stop this," she said, pushing him away. She hopped to her feet and began unpacking the provisions out of the basket. "I need to go back."

Obi Wan stood. "Stay here for today."

"Why?"

"The suns are too high. It'll be too hot for you to walk, and I think the Tuskens are on the move again."

"I will manage."

"You won't be able to _manage_ an attack of twenty raiders. You won't _manage_ dehydration. Leave early tomorrow when it's still dark."

She turned to him and crossed her arms pensively over her chest. "You know, I don't think I have ever been here for longer than a morning." 

Obi Wan thought of the two and a half years she had come to him, and he frowned. "That's very true." His frown deepened. "How is it that in nearly three years--"

Padmé let out a soft laugh and resumed her unpacking. "Time flies, Jedi. Another three years will soon pass and who knows what will happen then? I will stay with you today."


	2. Chapter Two

Two 

Padmé surveyed the tiny, wilting plot of land he had called a vegetable garden, and she picked up the shovel at her feet and drove the blade into the earth. The resistance of the yellowing dirt, which was as hard as rock, sent pain reverberating through her arms. She winced.

The Jedi had been taking down the strings of sun-dried jerky from the racks behind his hut; now he quickly threw the jerky aside and rushed to her. "What are you doing?" He snatched the shovel from her.

"You call this a garden?" she demanded. "This isn't--"

"Don't start. I know what you're going to say."

"Obi Wan, honestly, if you didn't know how to irrigate, you should have had the decency to ask me. Now give me the shovel and let me see what I can do." She made a grab for it; he jumped back with Jedi reflexes and trapped her hand between his rough, warm fingers.

"I invited you here as my guest, not as my worker," he said.

She shook her head, trying to fathom his serious blue-gray eyes. A feeling she could only define as bittersweetness for the Jedi Master overtook her. "Don't give me special treatment," she said softly. "I hate you when you do that."

He looked surprised. "I--" He released her hand. "I'm sorry."

"If you're really sorry, then you're going to buy a new irrigator, loosen all this land, and replant everything."

"You're awfully commanding for someone who doesn't want special treatment," Obi Wan quipped, humor in his tone.

"Blame the former Queen in me," she replied.

Obi Wan chuckled. "But must we stand out here in this forsaken heat, discussing irrigation systems?  Come inside. We'll eat some of the food you've prepared."

.*.*.*.*.

They sat at the table, facing each other, and Padmé watched as Obi Wan chewed thoughtfully on a butter roll. He ate politely and calmly, as though he were attending a formal banquet, and she remembered all of the banquets they _did_ attend, so long ago they had almost faded into fantasy.

"Padmé, do you recall the feast on Naboo after the victory over the Trade Federation?" Obi Wan said after he swallowed. "It was the first time I tried these."

She grinned, amazed. "I was just thinking about that! You must have read my mind."

"Sometimes I wish I could read your mind," he said.

"Don't you? You're able to."

"Not in the way most people think. I can sense feelings, but I'm rarely able to read the exact thoughts of anyone. But don't worry; I don't do either on you. The Jedi order says that a Jedi can never use his powers for amusement."

"The Jedi order doesn't exist anymore."

"That's true. It's gone, as with everything else in this galaxy," he finished.

A humorless laugh escaped her. "I feel like we're the only ones alive in this place. Come, I give you the permission to read my mind."

"May I ask why?"

"I want to see if you can do it, Jedi Master," she teased.

Obi Wan folded his hands in front of him. "Challenge accepted," he said with a faint smile.

Padmé stared into his eyes. They were the color of the Nubian sky right before a sunrise, blue and calm and never piercing. She conjured up an image. "What am I thinking about?"

"I'm not quite sure. Something about… nature. An animal. No. Now you're thinking about something blue. The sky, perhaps? I sense a great aura of wonder and yearning. And affection."

"Yearning? Affection?"

"No, not exactly. It's deeper than that. Much deeper. Whatever you're thinking about, you must feel strongly for."

"Really." She felt faint.

"Yes. It's... I got it! It's love." He raised an eyebrow during the silence that followed. "You're thinking about something you love. Someone," he said, and when she couldn't answer him, he added, "Of course I may be wrong."

She broke free from his searching gaze and focused on the ceiling. "I shouldn't have ever brought this up."

"What _were you thinking about?"_

"An eopie!" she snapped, her eyes stinging with unwanted moisture.

"Oh. That was the animal."

"Yes, and you're right, this is a bad game to play. I shouldn't have asked you to." She blinked and glared back at him. "I don't know, Obi Wan. I don't know anything anymore. I'm just so -- so -- I don't know! Sometimes this planet is just so damned!" She took a shivering breath, calming herself. "I'm sorry, Obi Wan. I don't know what's come over me."

"If you want to," he said quietly, leaning in, "I can rent you a ship and take you to a planet on the Outer Rims. Chad. Maybe Hapes. You don't deserve to be on Tattooine."

"No."

"Why not? The people of Chad are hospitable and--"

She silenced him. "No," she said. "I stay here. No matter what." 

The Jedi Master rubbed his face and heaved a sigh.

That was when the droids came.


	3. Chapter Three

Three 

He sensed them a nanosecond before the black, metallic hovering objects flew through the window; he grabbed Padmé and fell with her to the floor. The bullets sprayed into the room and sparked off of the walls like fireworks.

Empire.

He had no time to ponder on the possibility of this actually happening. He grabbed the lightsaber from his belt, ignited it, and passed it through the first probe droid that neared them. The probe combusted in a crackle of blue light.

"Three more coming in!" Padmé screamed, scrambling to her feet. Her blaster was already in her hands. She fired twice, and another probe went up in flames.

The remaining two probes let loose with a volley of bullets. Obi Wan's lightsaber was a blur as he deflected them, sending them ricocheting back to the hovering spheres. One of the probes jerked violently and dropped to the floor, smoking.

Padmé squeezed the trigger and the last probe fragmented into a thousand pieces. She lowered her blaster, her chest heaving. She wheeled to Obi Wan. "The Empire knows!"

He pulled her to his side, holding his ignited lightsaber protectively before them. "Yes, and they won't give up this easily. Be alert, Padmé."

A shiny silver object buzzed through the open window, clearing through the dust and debris. Obi Wan recognized it the moment he saw it; he gasped. "_Do. Not. Move."_

"What is it?"

"Poison droid," he hissed through his teeth. "Responds to organic movement _fast." He stretched out with the Force and sensed with dismay that there was an empty chasm where the poison droid's presence was supposed to be. Clearly this droid was not meant for anyone except for him. He held onto Padmé's arm._

The crystalline droid hummed as it slowly made its way into the room. Its single eye flashed in their direction. Obi Wan could see himself reflected in the lens, a bearded man in a heavy brown Jedi cloak, and he could see Padmé standing next to him, an infinitely beautiful Queen who held her ground unwaveringly. He realized how young she was. He gripped her arm tighter.

The droid's eye passed over them and continued to scan through the rest of the room. "A camera," Obi Wan whispered to himself. The Empire knew how to economize their droids, combining multiple functions together on a single tiny machine. Their images were probably flickering into each memory disc of each probe droid in Tattooine right now.

Without warning, Padmé tore herself away from him.

"Padmé, no!" He screamed, but she was too fast.

She raised her blaster and aimed it at him -- no -- she was aiming at something _behind_ him. The poison droid beelined for her just as Obi Wan felt the hot wind of a blaster shot sear agonizingly past his head. Something exploded; he spun around to see the smoldering pieces of a probe droid falling to the floor. He smelled his own singed hair mixed with the nauseous smoke of the probe.

Then Padmé was upon him, cupping his face into her slender hands. "It was the one that fell to the floor! It was still functioning!" She drew back her fingers from his forehead and Obi Wan saw the blood on them. "For heaven's sake, I hurt you! I'm so sorry--"

"Where's the poison droid!" he shouted.

"I shot it!"

"No you didn't! You shot at the other one!" He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. "Did it get you?"

"_No! I'm fine!"_

"Don't lie to me! Did it get you?"

"No, it flew into the wall!"

"You just said you shot at it!" Fear knotted in his gut. He saw the tiny line of blood marring her pale neck.


	4. Chapter Four

Four 

The first thing she felt when the needle of the poison droid scratched across her neck was an overwhelming lurch of pure terror. Her stomach flipped; she half expected to keel over on the spot in agony. But the only pain she felt was a tiny sting on her skin like a paper cut, and when she reached up and touched it, the pain went away and left only a numbness. Then a little tingle, not unpleasant, coursed through her fingers and subsided.

She quickly ran through the list of poisons in her mind. The class had been so long ago, back on Naboo when she had only been a girl. And all the symptoms were so similar. A burning pain, the coughing up of blood, the unbearable aches as the organs began to melt. But there was one that was different. One that was so intriguing she actually remembered its name.

Venenum.

"Venenum is a very clean and sophisticated poison," she heard the gruff voice of her former teacher  (now shot dead by Stormtroopers) fill her mind. "No disgusting melting or anything of the sort. Once inside the body, Venenum denatures all of the elements necessary for brain function. Eventually, the brain will simply and painlessly shut down." He had winked, as if it was just a joke.

"How long does it take to kill?" Sabé (now also dead) had asked.

"From within seconds to two, possibly three hours. Maybe longer. It depends on how much got into you. The smaller the amount, the longer the time. But even one molecule of Venenum can and _will_ kill, as it starts off a chain reaction that nothing can stop." He had chuckled. "But don't worry. Venenum is more expensive than it is harmful. Assassins will use it only on the enemies for whom they hold the utmost respect." 

The terror Padmé felt now was numb and cold and heavy.

There was no cure for Venenum.

And all she could think about was Obi Wan Kenobi.

"What happened here?" he was saying, touching the wound on her neck. She couldn't feel his fingers.

"It just scratched me before it flew into the wall!"

"But it got you!"

"Just a scratch, Obi Wan! The needle didn't go in!"

He pressed her neck again. "What do you feel? Be _honest_ with me, Padmé. What do you feel."

She heard the professionally trained part herself responding automatically, "It's burning and tingling, and there's a spicy taste in the back of my throat."

"Anything else?"

"No."

He sighed, a shuddering sound of relief. "Chingdu. Dragon's Poison. It scratched you, and that small of an amount isn't lethal. But we'll still want to have an antidote. I'll go to a dealer in Mos Eisley--"

"No, Obi Wan," she said firmly. "It's going to take three whole hours and -- it's dangerous for me to stay here alone for that long. I'll go with you."


	5. Chapter Five

Five 

They walked steadily and silently through the desert, shielding their eyes from the suns with the hoods of their cloaks. Once in a while, he would give a sideways glance at the young woman beside him, and more often than not, she would continue to stare straight ahead, posture confident and strong. On the occasions when she _did return his gaze, he thought he saw that her eyes were wet. But perhaps it was only a trick of the light._

He ventured another glance and found sharp brown eyes staring back at him.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" Padmé snapped, stopping in her tracks. "Are you expecting me to fall over and die?"

"No, because you're not going to die."

"Then stop acting like I will," she said softly.

He sensed that she was hiding something. He tried to probe further; she was completely blocking him out of her mind. "Are you tired?" he guessed. "If you are, we can stop and rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Or maybe you'd want to carry me, my chivalrous Jedi Knight?"

He ignored it. "Are you sure you're fine?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then let's go." He resumed walking. It took him several steps to find out she wasn't following him. He turned around; she was standing there like a moth in the middle of the desert, her eyes round and glittering with unmistakable tears that refused to fall.

"Obi Wan, come here," she murmured. There was something in her tone that wrenched at his heart and silenced him. He returned to her. And she stepped close to him and encircled his neck with her arms and turned her face to his and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and trembling. He felt the world crumbling away with all the things that could have been and never would be. He put his arms around her and held her gently.

She nestled her head into his chest. He felt the rapid beating of her heart, just as she undoubtedly felt the thudding of his. "I never told you how much I love you," she whispered.

He nearly stumbled, struggled to keep his voice even. "What kinds of words are these, Padmé?"

"True, honest ones. You felt it this morning."

This time he did stumble. "That was for _me_?"

"Yes." Then, "I'm so very sorry." She broke away from him before he could ask why. The desert air swirled between them, somehow bitterly cold to his skin.

"Let's go," Padmé said, and she walked away from him.

Obi Wan caught up to her. He took her hand, and to his surprise, she did not pull away. Instead, she tightened her fingers around his as though she could not afford to let go.


	6. Chapter Six

Six 

When she figured they had walked for about two hours, Padmé realized she would never see Luke and Leia again. It took all the willpower she possessed to stop herself from sprawling out in the sand and sobbing. They were about two years old, she figured. She hadn't seen them for more than a year. Perhaps they were already toddling about on their little feet after their foster parents now, calling out to them in a way they had never called out to her. 

She squeezed Obi Wan's hand.

"Padmé?" he said.

"I miss my children."

 He was silent for a long time. "I know."

"Do you think they are all right?"

"Yes."

"Promise me you'll check on them when you get the chance."

Confusion fluttered through his face. "Of course, Padmé, and so will you."

"So you promise you'll check on them?" she said.

"Yes, I promise."

They fell silent again. She wished to feel some pain inside her, something to signal to her that the end was coming. What if she just... dropped dead to the ground? There would be no time to say goodbye. Her heart was pounding, but it wasn't from the poison. Her future scared her.

Suddenly, Obi Wan stood still and tugged on her hand. "Probe droid," he said.

"Where?"

"Somewhere behind us. Damn, not again!" He looked ahead and pointed to a cluster of large rocks in the distance. "We can hide over there, come on!"

They ran.

When they reached the rocks, Padmé's legs gave out from under her, and she collapsed against the largest stone, panting. She heard her shoulder blades smack into the hard surface; she felt nothing. It terrified and relieved her at the same time. Soon. Very soon.

"Are you all right?" Obi Wan crouched down beside her.

"Just a little tired. Why are the probe droids still here?"

"The poison droid carried a camera," he said, taking out his lightsaber. "They take very grainy pictures and send them out to the probe droids in the surrounding area. The probes probably saw us and realized we were still alive." He sighed. "The droids are going after me, not you. They'll recognize the brown cloak and won't stop until there's a dead person inside of it."

"Then the Empire will stop chasing you forever," Padmé finished.

"Of course."

"Are you sure?"

Obi Wan frowned. "Yes. I don't understand what you're trying to ask me."

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Obi Wan, I have something to tell you, and then I want you to promise to do exactly as I say. Promise me now."

"Padmé, what's wrong--"

"Just say you'll do as I say! I don't have time for this!" She pinned him with her stare. She saw the confusion build in his beautiful blue eyes, gather, and disperse as a new expression hit him. Realization.

"Padmé--" he began.

She beat him to it. "Yes, Obi Wan, I'm dying. It was Venenum."


	7. Chapter Seven

Seven 

Venenum.

He knew everything about it, thanks to the merciless lifetime of Jedi training. And he couldn't feel anything save for a quiet acceptance. He wondered if he was human. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked, and was shocked at the way his voice stayed calm.

"What good would it do you if I told you earlier? Are you going to command me to live, and then I'm going to get better?"

"It's too soon..." was all he could think of to say.

The former Queen nodded. "I know," she said. She tried to sit up; her hand slipped on the rock and she fell back down with a muffled thud. She gave a silent laugh, as though she could not believe it herself.

He pulled her to him and gathered her up in his arms amidst the engulfing nest of their cloaks. She was cold and still. "Can you feel me holding you?" he whispered.

"Yes." Her voice was soft, but strong. "I feel only you."

The panic was rising now, bubbling from the pit of his stomach and rising up and up and up. He wanted to howl with tears, to scream at her for lying to him, to never let her go, to die with her. He bit the inside of his bottom lip and tasted blood. He kept it down. "What were you going to tell me?"

"It's about the probe droids."

He nodded.

"After I die, wrap me in your cloak. The probe droids will see me and analyze that I'm dead. They'll believe it's you and they'll send the pictures back to the Empire, and Darth Vader will finally celebrate his little victory. And you... you'll be free. Give yourself a new name. You won't have to hide anymore--"

"Stop, stop." He shook his head furiously and saw his tears sprinkle over her face. "I with be able to live with myself after this."

"Then I'm just going to die and that's it?" Padmé demanded incredulously, fiercely whispering. "How can you do this to _me_, Obi Wan?"

"Because I love you too much to put you though that degradation," he said.

She kissed his cheek with icy lips. "And I not only love you, I can also _think_ while I'm in love. Promise me."

He felt her fading, and there was nothing else he could do. "I promise."

She smiled faintly and curled into him, silent.

He tightened his grip around her and touched their foreheads together. "Don't go, Padmé. Not now."

"I don't even feel like I'm dying," she murmured in response. "It's not so bad."

"Padmé, stay with me for a second longer."

"You're so warm..."

He kissed her softly. "Promise me something. When you're there, wait for me, all right?"

"I promise," she said. Her eyelids fluttered. "And I'm planning to wait a long, long time, Obi Wan Kenobi." Her eyes closed and she fell against him limply.

He let out a silent yell.


	8. Chapter Eight

Eight 

The pictures flashed across the holographic view-screen in front of him, and Darth Vader sighed in the only way he now knew how: a controlled mechanical exhalation. He turned to the young man with the sunken cheeks, who sat in a conference chair next to him. "But how can we be sure, Governor Tarkin, that these pictures are indeed of Obi Wan Kenobi? I sense a slight uncertainty in the Force."

Tarkin sucked in a breath between his teeth. "The Force. Who else can it be? Kenobi is the only Jedi left in the galaxy. It's true you can't see his face. But it is his robe, and it is indeed a dead human underneath it."

"Can we send down scavenger droids to confirm the identity of the body?"

"We can, my Lord, but I am almost certain the real scavengers of Tattooine have consumed him by now. The desert and the lizards and Jawas. Do you still want me to dispatch the--"

"No." Vader shook his head. "That won't be necessary." He let several mechanical breaths fall between them before continuing. "I'm sure we will be celebrating your promotion very soon, Governor Tarkin. Or shall I call you -- _Moff Tarkin?"_

The thin reed of a man sputtered something pathetically.

Vader smiled to himself, painfully, behind his mask. Then black robe swirling behind him, he exited the view-screen room.


	9. Chapter Nine

Nine 

The man in the white cloak threaded like a moth between the sticky, grimy inhabitants of the filthy city known as Mos Eisley, until he stopped at a small, open-doored office in the middle of the shopping district. The Twilek sitting at the desk uncoiled his head-tails in greeting.

"Hello, sir," he said in heavily accented Basic. "What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"I'd like to place an order."

"Of course." The Twilek took out an electronic pad and stylus. "Which planet?"

"Naboo."

"Ah... Naboo. And what do you want from there?"

"Wildflowers." 

The Twilek eyed the man suspiciously. "You will not question me why," said the man.

"Of course, I will not question you why, good sir." The Twilek jotted the order down on his pad. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Butter rolls. A box. That will be all."

"And who shall I send the bill to when the order comes?"

The man was silent for a while. Then, "Obi Wan -- no. Send it to Ben Kenobi. That's my name. Ben Kenobi."

_I won't go down with this ship_

_I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag upon my door_

_I'm in love and I always will be…_

Finis.

Notes: Venenum means poison in Latin, if you haven't guessed already. Chingdu means light poison in Mandarin Chinese. (Ching = light, du = poison.) Wonderful song at the end is called White Flag, by Dido.

Final notes: I'd love to hear what you think. Review me harder, baby!


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